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Tales of Berengar
The groaning of the ship and the sound of the waves slapping against the hull was interrupted by a knocking at the door to the room. Berengar closed the book that he had been leafing through and, in a single step, opened the door to the tiny ships cabin. "We've sighted land, better get yer stuff an git ready." The man shuffled off as soon as he had spoken his piece and then moved to the next cabin to knock and repeat the same message to the inhabitants. It took Berengar only a few minutes to don his armor and buckle his sword to his side and then, with his meagre belongings tucked into his bedroll, he stepped out on to the deck. The sailors were scurrying back and forth, shouting back and forth at each other. There were only a few other passengers on board and so it was easy to find a place near the railing to wait for landfall. Out of the corneer of his eyes he could see the oars sticking out of the side of the ship, the slaves prepared to start rowing once they approached land more closely and needed to reef the sails. The sound of the waves was much louder out of the deck and he could almost feel the ship as it groaned through the waves. He stared out across the water to the rising walls of Javiksholm, his mind almost in a state of awe. This was it, the city of Javiksholm on the continent of Pendor. He unconsciously patted his breast where the folded letter that had changed his life forever still rested. "I did it dad, mom. I am here now. Pendor. I don't know what to do, where to go, or who to talk with but I swear that I will protect you." His fingers clutched the letter through the mail on his chest, "I'll clear your names and make you proud, not only of me but also of where you came from. I just wish you could be here with me. I know I am going to need your guidance." Almost as if he heard him, his fathers voice sprang into his mind. "A knight must always show valor, especially in the face of the unknown." He unclenched his hand on the letter and leaned on to the railing of the ship. His father had given up his knightly order and lived as a simply master-at-arms in the village but while his training with the villagers and the troops of the local lord had been nothing more than simply his job, his training of Berengar had been wholly different. Every day as the sun rose they would train, when he became old enough to join the village militia he trained there, and at night when the day was over they would train before taking supper. "A knight must be always be confident. You cannot lead if you doubt yourself." The mantra's would be pounded into his head as they sparred across the small yard, in the mornings as they washed for breakfast, in the evenings as they assumed the stances and flowed through the battle dance. "A knight must never show fear or hesitation, those things kill more surely than a blade." This often said as his father reached huge hands down to drag the worn and bruised child back to his feet. "A knight must always strive to be strong, only the strong can remake the world." His father would say as he brushed off the dirt and wiped away any blood while handing him back the heavy wooden sword that he trained with. "A knight must always protect the weak. It is the duty of the strong to preserve the peace." They weren't a motto or a knightly creed, rather it seemed more as if his father wanted to ensure that he always had his values placed on the right things. Every battle, every beating, every defeat, his father would reach those huge hands down and carefully bring him back to his feet and recited one of the Knights Codes to him. They were ingrained in him now, a creed of his own that he had always lived by, the Knights Code was an ideal, a pure ideal of truth and protection that Berengar believed his father exemplified as a knight, and that he would exemplify himself as the proud son of that knight. "A knight must always be true. Falseness brings only misery and pain." Berengar chuckled, the list had started on its own with the first line and had just continued. His face turned somber once again, it wasn't just something he learned as a child. Whatever happened in Pendor, he would always strive to live up to these knightly ideals so that when he next saw his father he could say with pride that he had done as a knight should. The ship bumped gently onto the docks and within a few moments the gangplank was lowered and Berengar stepped onto the soil of Pendor. It all started now. The wandering mad woman had declared him to be the hero foretold to reunited the shattered kingdom, whether that was true or merely the ramblings of a mad woman he didn't know. What he did know is that somewhere in this land, someone had put a price on his head. Not only that but on the heads of his father and mother as well, someone had made a mistake. He hadn't forgotten to train, to work towards being a knight, not when he had been apprenticed out to the local merchant, not while he had been studying at the university how to apply the healing arts, nor even as a physician, aiding others in the curing of thier ailments. He had trained. He had prepared. And now the day had come when both his training and his resilience as a knight would be tested. One day, all of Pendor would know of the Band of the Wolf. His family crest would fly high at the forefront of great battles, drape the walls of castles, and eventually it would come to symbolize that the lost had been found, the line was not broken, the true King of Pendor had returned! To be continued... Category:Tales from Pendor Category:Rise of The King